


darling (only you can ease my mind)

by sleepallday_talkallnight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, commissioned work!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepallday_talkallnight/pseuds/sleepallday_talkallnight
Summary: Bucky Barnes had a lot of names. Bucky Barnes also had a lot of titles.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	darling (only you can ease my mind)

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for the lovely asrasdarling on Tumblr :)
> 
> Title taken from [Ease My Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuMskr3hi48) by Ben Platt

Bucky Barnes had a lot of names. His birth name, _James_ , a formal address used only in classrooms and during roll calls by his drill sergeant back in the 107th. Then there’s, of course, _Bucky,_ dubbed affectionately by first his twin sister Becca then taken up by his best friend Steve Rogers. There was _the Winter Soldier_ , a name he’d loathed and feared up until he was taken into rehabilitation in Wakanda. _The White Wolf_ , a name he’d been honorably given by T’Challa and Shuri.

Bucky Barnes also had a lot of titles. He’s been _son, brother, friend, best friend, soldier, leader of the Howling Commandos, missing in action, HYDRA experiment, asset, assassin, trainer, WWII veteran, Avenger,_ and, in a brief embarrassing stint undercover while on an Avengers mission, _street performer._

But his favorite title by far?

_Boyfriend._

Boyfriend. It was such a mundane word. It was innocent, simple, straightforward yet confusing. It was something so goddamn _normal_ , that if you’d asked Bucky what he thought of being a boyfriend to someone back in the days where he was just getting used to his new life as an Avenger and his status as _not_ being aninternational criminal, he’d might’ve laughed. Because after fighting in WWII, after being tortured by Nazis and being turned into a cryogenically frozen Soviet assassin, after living in Wakanda and fighting aliens after being turned into dust for five years… a normal life with a normal relationship just didn’t seem plausible.

But then he’d met Jenna.

Jenna Everett. Seemed fitting that Bucky ran into her on the day his life properly changed for the better. The day he was officially, publicly dubbed an Avenger had also been the day he’d met the love of his life—it was like the universe had sent him a glaring sign, saying, _HERE’S YOUR CHANCE TO GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER, BARNES._

So he’d gotten his shit together. And then some.

In the bedroom of the apartment Bucky shared with Jenna, tucked securely and carefully into a false drawer inside his closet, nestled beneath several layers of old newspapers and handwritten love letters, was a small velvet box. 

In it, a diamond ring gleamed with the promise of a hopeful future, a happy future. 

_Acquaintances, friends, best friends, casual lovers, boyfriend._

By the time he and Jenna’s anniversary rolled around, Bucky hoped to add just one more title to his list.

➳

_“Sir, you have an incoming call from Mr. Barnes.”_

“Barnes? Yeah, put him on, FRIDAY. Thanks.”

A click. “Stark? Is that you?”

“The one and only. To what do I owe this pleasure of finally hearing your voice after days of you not paying us any visits? Pizza night just wasn’t as fun without you and Sam going at each other.”

“I was… otherwise occupied.”

“Say no more. What happens in your bedroom stays in your bedroom. Tell Jenna I said hi, will you?”

_“Tony.”_

“Alright, pal. Seriously, though. Is someone dead or dying? Why are you calling me? The last time you did… I can’t even remember the last time you called.”

_“May 27th, sir. Mr. Barnes called to inform you that Mr. Rogers was bleeding out from numerous bullet wounds in Zurich.”_

“Thanks, FRIDAY. See? Point proven.”

“I…”

“Yeah, don’t be shy, pal, spit it out.”

“I need a favor.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

➳

There was an arrow embedded in a human-sized foam target, right where a heart should be. Before it could even stop shaking, another soared right above it, sinking deep into the target’s head. It would have gone right through a brain.

Another arrow flew true, splitting the first arrow right down the middle and impaling the target’s heart all over again. A knife followed right after, gleaming silver flashing fast, a mere blur to the normal eye, and it sunk hilt-deep into the target’s neck, all but decapitating the imaginary enemy.

Jenna Everett smiled to herself and dusted her hands off, readying for a second round.

“I highly doubt you’ll be able to beat that one, Clint,” Bucky said, entering the training center without any preamble. Clint Barton, who’d been standing at the arrow targets, whipped his head around, the Hawkeye dressed in civilian wear and holding a bow loosely in his hands. He shrugged, nonchalant yet proud.

“What can I say? They always learn so fast.” Clint caught Bucky’s eye, and, unslinging his quiver, he set it gently against a bench, placing his bow back on the weapons rack offering dozens of deadly goods to use during SHIELD agent training. Clint grabbed a towel and gave his face a quick scrub. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

A wink, a knowing smile, and Clint was gone. Of course Stark had told him.

Bucky chuckled, briefly, and his gaze drifted over to—

Jenna.

Jenna, who had a quiver half-full of arrows slung over her shoulder and throwing knives palmed in her right hand, poised to throw. Who was pausing in her target practice to sheathe a knife back into her belt. 

Who turned, met Bucky’s eyes, smiled, and promptly melted Bucky’s heart all over again.

“Since you’re here, can I assume you’ll be escorting me onto a Quinjet, where we’ll fly to Zurich with Steve and fight Nazis, and eventually witness Steve taking too many bullets to his chest from a machine gun, after which we’ll be forced to call Tony for backup despite it being 3 A.M. in New York City?” Jenna unbuckled her knife belt and grinned at Bucky. “Because that was what happened the last time you came to pick me up from training.”

“Can’t a guy just pick his girlfriend up from target practice without an ulterior motive involving gunfights every once in a while?” Bucky asked teasingly.

“Well, I mean, it’s never happened, so…” Jenna went over to the weapons rack and hung her bow and knife belt back up with care. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“Um.” Bucky slipped one hand into his pocket, unconsciously, and his finger grazed the soft material of the velvet box he’s pinning so much hope on. “It’s our anniversary today.”

“Yes,” Jenna said, dryly.

“I was wondering if you would allow me the honor,” Bucky said, only half-jokingly, “of taking you out for the day.”

“It’s one in the afternoon.”

“For the rest of the day,” Bucky amended.

Jenna smiled. “I’m interested. What do you have planned?”

“It’s a surprise?”

“Fair enough. I’m going to take a shower. Meet you in the lobby in twenty?”

“Perfect. And—before you go.” Bucky closed the distance between them and leaned down to capture Jenna’s lips in a quick kiss. When they parted, Jenna’s eyes were sparkling and she was blushing—just barely, but it was there. “See you soon, darling.”

➳

“No _way_ ,” Jenna said, a five-minute drive later, looking at the large sign plastered over the front of the building. She barely took notice of the large queue currently wrapping around half a block from the entrance of said building. “Bucky, no _way._ ”

 _C &A’s Bakerie,_ the sign read, still gleaming from how new it was. Underneath the name of the bakery in a smaller font was a cheeky little _Yes, We Know How To Spell Bakery._ It was a fairly new place, having had its grand opening only a few months ago, but already it’s garnered quite a reputation for having the best baked goods in Brooklyn—as could be seen from the considerable line. It had impeccable five-star reviews on Google, had praise from countless critics, and had Clint once bringing a boxful of their madeleines back to the building, refusing to let anyone get near them.

(Later, a skeptical Tony had placed an order from the bakery to see what the fuss was about. From that day forth, there were fresh madeleines delivered straight from the day’s first batch to the tower every Friday and Sunday.)

Jenna whirled over to look at Bucky, who was smiling broadly. “You remembered!”

“How couldn’t I, when you kept going on about their brownies for a whole week?” He pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek, and threaded his fingers through hers. “Now, shall we?”

“What… What, are we buying some cakes as a date?” Jenna teased, though she knew her boyfriend definitely had something planned. “I’m not complaining, but you do know the line’s about… thirty minutes long, right?”

“You hurt me with how you don’t think I plan ahead,” Bucky said dryly, tugging her straight to the door, bypassing the line. “You remember how you said you can’t imagine how they could make brownies as good as they do?”

She furrowed her brows. “Yeah? I said they were laced with something, didn’t I?”

“I thought you were three steps away from asking Stark to run a diagnostic on it, yes,” he replied. “So, anyway…”

Bucky pushed open the glass doors and the aroma of fresh-baked goods hit Jenna immediately, warm and welcoming and _delicious._ Despite the line outside, the bakery wasn’t overly packed—C&A’s regulated the number of people in their place at all times, so no one would ever feel uncomfortable or rushed when indoors.

“So fuck the line, am I right?” Jenna joked. Bucky laughed, tugging her toward the counter, where there was a guy standing behind a frankly _mouthwatering_ display of tarts and scones. Internally, Bucky debated as to whether this was C or A, the two co-owners mentioned in the name of the bakery—despite their fame, Bucky never really got around to knowing what C and A stood for—but his speculation was cut short when the guy looked up from where he was fiddling with the coffee machine.

“Ah, you guys must be our three o’clock,” he said in form of a greeting. He had a professional smile on, polite and aloof. “Gotta admit, that feels weird to say. It’s never happened before. Uh, can you hold on for a bit? I’ll grab Carson—he’s in the kitchen.”

So the guy standing in front of them must be A. Bucky’s suspicions were confirmed when A said, “Oh, I’m Aston, by the way. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Jenna said nothing, but Bucky felt her grip tighten on his hand, and knew that she was probably dying to say the same. “Same to you,” he blurted, and Aston looked at them, curious. “I’m—uh, I’m Bucky, this is Jenna. We’re huge admirers of your place. Jenna once bought some brownies home, and she wouldn’t stop gushing about it.”

“The brownies!” Aston looked pleased. “Fantastic to hear it. Yeah, they’re our unofficial specialty. I have _no_ idea how Carson makes them. He’s offered to teach me, but I don’t know anything about baking, so all I got from his process was a puff of flour to the face.”

He shot them one last smile, then darted off to what was presumably the kitchen. Jenna finally let go of Bucky’s hand, and her eyes are wide. “What _are_ we doing here?” she asked wonderingly, but Bucky only grinned back anticipatingly.

Aston returned to the counter with another person in tow. Carson, Bucky inferred, who was wiping flour-covered hands on his truthfully appalling plaid apron with _I Wasn’t Born Yeasterday_ printed on it in bold lettering. “Carson, meet Bucky and Jenna. Bucky and Jenna, please ignore the apron.”

“Kind of hard to do,” Jenna said quietly, but Carson laughed, having overheard anyway.

“Believe it or not, this was Aston’s gift to me,” Carson added, offering a hand for Jenna and Bucky to shake, which they did. “Don’t let that serious exterior fool you. He’s a huge dork. Hey, good to meet you, by the way.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and Carson—after ruffling an indignant Aston’s hair—led the two of them into the kitchen, leaving Aston to man the cashier outside. Inside the back of the bakery, the aroma of baked goods was somehow even _more_ fragrant, and both Bucky and Jenna paused to inhale deeply _._ Maybe Jenna hadn’t been so far off in suspecting the goods were drugged, after all.

Carson bounded over to a beeping oven and slid on some oven mitts, retrieving a tray of chocolate chip cookies that looked gooey and soft and wonderful, and setting them on one of the numerous counters strayed around the kitchen. “Well,” he said, turning back to them and pulling off his mitts, “welcome to where the magic happens. Anyone want a cookie?”

Jenna’s eyes were shining, even as she accepted the offer for a cookie. “Do we get a tour?”

“Not quite.” Carson clapped his hands together, grinning and winking at Bucky, who was in the middle of grabbing a cookie of his own. “I hear you’re a big fan of our brownies, Jenna?”

“Oh, yes, they’re the _best_ ,” Jenna replied eagerly. “I try to drop by every week, but the line’s always packed.”

“Tell me about it,” Carson said, “the last time we ran out of coffee beans, I had to make a coffee run, and I swear to _god_ if it weren’t for the fact that I _own_ this bakery, I don’t think I would’ve gotten back in so easily.”

Jenna laughed at that. “No, but seriously, what are we doing here?”

“Well, Jen, we’re here to make sure you never have to go a week without some of our fabulous brownies ever again,” Carson announced, gesturing to a counter laid out with bags of flour, measuring cups, butter, bowls, and everything one would imagine using upon the mention of _baking_. 

Jenna’s eyes widened as the implication of Carson’s declaration sank in. She whirled to look at Bucky, who was grinning widely, and whirled to look at Carson, who was offering her a perfectly innocent smile, and finally settled for a muted “Holy _shit_ ” before grabbing Bucky’s hand and tugging him closer to the counter.

“Grab the most ridiculous apron you can find, lady and gentleman,” Carson declared. “We’re making us the best goddamn brownies in New York City.”

➳

Bucky slipped the ring out of its velvet box right as they were finishing up the brownie batter. With a quick look shot at Carson, who’d been informed beforehand what the whole thing was about by a very efficient email—which had also included an NDA coupled with a very, _very_ generous donation from Stark Industries; Bucky definitely owed Tony big-time—the baker slipped out of the kitchen with a tray of cookies, under the pretense of resupplying the displays. 

Jenna had her back turned to Bucky, busy measuring out chocolate chips and walnuts to mix into the batter. She was humming contentedly, and wildly Bucky thought, _it’s now or never_. So Bucky took a deep breath, shimmering diamond ring clutched firmly in his hands, and knelt down on one knee.

Or, at least, he tried to.

No sooner than the moment he took a step back to kneel, Bucky stepped into a small puddle of melted butter—a piece of butter that _he’d_ accidentally fumbled onto the floor because he’d made the mistake of trying to pick it up with his _metal hand._ His boot slipped forwards, the rest of him slid backward, his arms went up in a terribly indignant and desperate way in an attempt to stop his fall, and all of this collectively cumulated in a bewildered heap of Bucky Barnes flat on his back on the kitchen floor, the wind knocked out of him and a bruise quickly forming on where he’d banged his elbow into a drawer handle.

In other words: It didn’t quite work out the way he’d expected.

“What th— _Bucky_!” Jenna was on him in a second, worried and confused, and Bucky groaned. “What happened? Are you— _what_ —are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky sighed, frustrated. Jenna offered him a hand and she pulled him up with ease, years of SHIELD training having given her quite some strength, and only when he was upright and standing again did Bucky realize something.

He didn’t have the ring.

_He didn’t have the ring._

“What happened?” Jenna asked again, and Bucky mumbled a half-coherent explanation of melted butter and missteps that he himself wasn’t even listening to because he was too busy panicking over losing the fucking _ring._

He hadn’t heard a clatter. Then again, he also hadn’t heard anything else over the sound of his body hitting the ground.

The kitchen door opened, and Carson walked back into the kitchen, probably expecting to see an ecstatic, newly-engaged couple, but instead stopping short at the sight of a worried Jenna and a panicking Bucky. “Um.”

“Bucky slipped,” Jenna explained, and Bucky offered them a sheepish grin that probably looked more like him baring his teeth. 

“But we’re done with the batter,” Bucky said, as cheerfully as he could without screaming. “So, uh, what do we do now?”

 _“What do I do now,”_ Bucky hissed at Carson ten minutes later, after the brownies had gone into the oven and Jenna had went in search of a bathroom and coffee. Bucky’d filled Carson in with a couple of very brief and extremely panicked sentences, and they’d already spent the better part of five minutes crawling on the floors in search of the lost engagement ring.

“Shit, I don’t know,” Carson shot right back, seeming to panic almost as much as Bucky was. “Fuck, is there, like, anyway you could postpone this?”

“Carson, who proposes _the day after their anniversary_?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be the first!”

“I’m not postponing it!”

Okay, Bucky _could_ postpone it. By a year, until their next anniversary, or even just a few days, because yeah, fine, Bucky didn’t give a shit about customs and expectations. But he’d really wanted it to be _today._

“Okay, then, fine!” Carson raked his fingers through his unruly hair in frustration. “Is there anywhere you might’ve dropped it? We’ve checked under the counters, in the corners, _on_ the counters… Unless you somehow opened a portal into another dimension with your ring, there’s literally nowhere it could be.”

But then their gazes drifted, simultaneously, to the three ovens currently housing three batches of brownies—one for each of them—and the two of them looked at each other with identical expressions of realization.

“The brownies,” they said in unison with equal horror, and that’s when the kitchen doors opened, and Jenna walked back in with two mugs of coffee in hand. 

“What’s wrong with the brownies?” she asked, handing one of the mugs to Bucky.

“Nothing!” Carson yelped. A career of baking had, unsurprisingly, not led to his status as an expert liar. Quite frankly, it sounded like he was trying his hand at being a carnival barker. “They’re fantastic!”

“Right,” Jenna said, looking to Bucky. “What’s wrong with the brownies?”

“Nothing,” Bucky parroted, albeit in a much calmer manner that did not, in the least, reflect how he felt. “Carson was just telling me that we had to bake them at… 190 degrees for… three hours.”

“225 degrees,” Carson muttered under his breath, “for an hour.”

“What did _I_ say?” 

“Hm.” Jenna sipped from her coffee, still slightly suspicious but apparently willing to let it go in the meantime. “What are we doing for the next forty minutes, then?”

That was a good question. Bucky had planned on things going off without a hitch—stupid, _stupid,_ he of all people should know no plan survives first implementation—but he _had_ planned ahead, reserving a seat at Rao’s months prior and asking the staff to prepare for an engagement celebration. After that, he’d arranged a driver to take him and Jenna down to a fancy private room in New York Public Library that he’d reserved for the night.

He did _not_ want to go up to Rao’s and not-so-discreetly wave off the champagne and balloons and cake they’d bring out. He also didn’t want to waste their reservation of perfectly good Italian food, but sacrifices were sacrifices. 

So Bucky racked his brain for a good place for a good yet accessible dinner that didn’t require a call to Tony Stark, who would mock him endlessly, and turned to Jenna. “How do you feel about a romantic, completely not spur of the moment, picnic dinner in Bryant Park?”

➳

Bryant Park, it turned out, was very nice in the afternoon.

The picnic basket that Bucky had pleaded with an amused Agent Hill for had bread, an unopened jar of strawberry jam, sandwiches, a small bundle of cookies, and a bottle of chilled champagne with accompanying glasses. In comparison, Bucky had a stomach full of butterflies, no engagement ring, a sweaty palm, and an already once-failed marriage proposal. 

All things considered, he decided, the picnic basket was definitely winning this round.

“I call first dibs on the cookies,” Bucky teased, and Jenna shot him a scandalized look.

“Fight me for them,” she declared, cookies already in hand, and Bucky grinned before tackling her, both of them laughing and yelping as they scrambled for the small packet for about half a minute until it became less about the cookies and more about trying to tickle the other. 

They ended up laying side by side on the oversized picnic blanket, the two of them gazing up at the afternoon sky as Bucky’s hands idly toyed with the cookie packet. In the corner of Bucky’s vision, he saw the New York Public Library standing tall and beautiful off the side of the grassy patch, and all at once he was certain that’s where he wanted to do it—even if he had no ring.

See, he’d chosen to originally do it in the bakery kitchen because he’d wanted somewhere that was close to Jenna’s heart. Of course he knew that a kitchen was nowhere near the top ten most romantic spots to get engaged, but right then? Jenna had been happy. He’d been happy.

His hands uncurled the twist tie on the cookie packet, and Bucky wrapped the tie around his finger absentmindedly.

They’d been _happy—_ and really, wasn’t that all that mattered?

He was interrupted from his internal pondering by a soft poke on his thigh. “Hey,” Jenna said, turning to gaze at him with a grin on her face.

“Hey,” Bucky replied, knowing full well he had a dopey smile on his face as he gazed right back at her. His beautiful girlfriend, who he was _so damn in love with._

“Why are you looking at me like—” she started to ask, but was cut off by Bucky leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her equally soft lips. Jenna tasted like chocolate and coffee and the love of his life, and as Bucky pulled away, he could only think about how lucky he’d gotten.

“Because I love you,” he said softly, plain and simple. “So much.”

➳

The twist wire was still wrapped around Bucky’s fingers, ten minutes after they’d finished their picnic. It was frayed at the edges and curling unattractively, but nevertheless it clung, almost desperately, to his fingers.

“I can’t believe how empty it is today,” Jenna remarked as she walked, hand in hand with Bucky, down the hallways of the New York Public Library. “It’s like everyone decided to just… ignore this section of the library.”

Bucky, who knew that to be more or less the truth—yes, he _may_ or may not have asked Stark to section off a part of the New York Public Library for a good hour or two; on a completely unrelated note, the Library would be getting a nice new renovation for its gift shop sometime next year—remained silent, instead choosing to hum in agreement.

Jenna, sharp as the arrows she wielded, caught on. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

The sheepish smile Bucky sent her didn’t quite help his case, but it did make her laugh, the bright and happy sound bouncing off the tall ceilings of the beautiful building interior, so he thought it was alright.

There was something peaceful about the quiet of an empty library, something delicate and fragile and beautiful about the stillness of the air and the way everything you did created a small sound that echoed audibly in the chill air. It was good. It was _clean._ It was perfect for a new beginning.

 _God_ , did Bucky hope so, anyway.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Bucky said after a couple of minutes of silent walking. Jenna had her mind set on finding the classics section—without a map, mind—and had been strolling along with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Just thinking.”

“What about?” Bucky poked her in the side, and she giggled.

“You and me, I guess,” she said. “Just… how lucky, you know? I am.”

 _You stole the words right out of my mouth_ , Bucky almost said. But Jenna was looking at him with painfully sincere eyes, he knew his gaze reflected the same depth of unfathomable emotion. The moment had changed—it was no longer lighthearted in its comfortable silence. It was suspended in time—an invitation. A beckoning.

 _Now or never. Now or never. It’s now,_ he thought frantically, _or_ never.

So when he got down on one knee, it wasn’t as much as a graceful slide than a loud drop—a surrender. And if the library hadn’t been quiet before, it was deafening in its silence now. Bucky could’ve almost heard the individual dust motes shifting over one another; the sound of Jenna’s gasp was almost deafening by comparison.

His legs were shaking. So were his hands and fingers, as he fumbled with the twist wire. Bucky opened his eyes—when did he close them?— and saw Jenna staring, eyes wide and gleaming, hands clasped over her open mouth in joyous disbelief. 

“Jenna Everett,” Bucky said, but then stopped, because his voice sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk being choked to death by a nightclub bouncer. 

“Buck…” Jenna whispered through her fingers. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice—or care—about Bucky’s little lapse into chipmunk mode.

“Jenna,” Bucky repeated, and to his credit, he managed to not sound like a dying animal. “It’s been… we’ve been together for a long time.”

Jenna, to _her_ credit, did not break out laughing at his sad attempts at a romantic wooing monologue. Bucky, nevertheless, mentally yelled at himself to _TRY HARDER._

“Before I met you, I was a mess. I was unstable and emotionally inept and prone to sudden fits of murderous rage. The only person really keeping me going was Steve, but even he could do so much.” Bucky paused, mind whirling. “I… I’d been beginning to doubt that I’d ever feel normal, feel _alive_ again.

“And then I met you.”

Jenna’s eyes had started shining.

“Jenna, you _saved_ me,” Bucky said, and his voice threatened to crack. “The first time I saw you, I simply thought you were gorgeous.” _The most beautiful thing in the galaxy._ “The first time I talked to you, you made me smile—made me feel happy for the first time in many, many years. The first time I heard you laugh, I knew I would never hear anything as wonderful again.”

Jenna laughed then, a small broken sound of joy emitting from beneath her hands. 

“And the first time we kissed…”

_A mutant experiment gone rogue, an outbreak in Central Park. Jenna and Bucky, dispatched together. A quick and efficient victory—another job done flawlessly. The sun had set by the time SHIELD reinforcements arrived to clean up the mess. They were walking together under the breathtaking, sunset-painted sky. Secret glances at each other, smiles curling subtly. A heartbreakingly gentle first kiss that tasted of sweat and blood and victory—of something unstoppable that was to come._

“The first time we kissed, Jenna, it felt like we could’ve brought the world to its knees.”

Another pause. Utter silence, as if even the birds outside the library knew the gravity of the moment. Peaceful. Quiet. Groundbreaking.

“Every single day that I wake up next to you,” Bucky continued, voice starting to shake, “I feel the same way.”

How could he _properly_ express how he felt? Words couldn’t do it justice—the feeling of heady _completion_ , of satisfaction and fulfillment, that came just with one of her smiles. _You complete me. You make me feel alive._ No. That wasn’t all.

“I could write a million terrible love ballads,” he confessed, “epics and novels and poems, and I could never finish telling you how much I love you. But I’m hoping you’ll give me enough time to _try.”_

And then he brought out his ring—his terribly improvised ring, a twist wire that had been wrapped around his pinky a couple of times and now somewhat resembled a circle. Jenna burst out laughing, and the laughter was soft and loving.

“It’s, uh, a long story,” Bucky said as a hasty attempt at an explanation, “involving the—and you’re not gonna believe this—brownies.”

“We’ll have time to hear it later,” Jenna said softly. Not quite a _yes_ —of course, he hadn’t even asked yet—but it sent copious amounts of hope and anticipation blooming in Bucky’s heart.

“Jenna Everett,” Bucky started, voice hesitant and soft and hopeful all at once. “Will you marry me?”

Utter silence— _peaceful, quiet, groundbreaking;_ and then—

“Yes,” Jenna breathed.

➳

Bucky Barnes had a lot of names. _James, Bucky, Winter Soldier, the White Wolf,_ and a few more that Stark would dub him occasionally _._ Some of these names he liked, some he was neutral towards, and some he vehemently disliked.

Bucky Barnes also had a lot of titles. _Son, brother, friend, soldier, sergeant, soldier, asset, Avenger. Boyfriend._ Some of which sparked happy memories, some of which didn’t.

And then there was—

_Fiancé._

The word rolled beautifully off his tongue. It tasted of love and care and a new beginning, one filled with years that would go by like days, because of who he would spend it with. _Fiancé._ No longer just _boyfriend._

 _Fiancée_ sounded even better. Of course it did. It meant Jenna. Jenna Everett, whose smile was brighter than ever, who he woke up every morning with a kiss and a cup of fresh coffee. Who he was desperately, irrevocably, in love with.

This was a new chapter of his life to look forward to, Bucky knew. A chapter filled with frantic plans and invitations, of butterflies and flowers and wedding cakes. 

(Of course, he already knew who he was going to commission the wedding cake from. A few hours after their engagement, once they’d gotten home, there’d been a large paper bag sitting on their dining table. A note had been stuck to it.

 _Hey pal. It all worked out in the end, I hope,_ had been scrawled in a hasty font. _Congratulations! Or… condolences. Just covering my bases. If it is the former though, did I mention I do wedding cake commissions? Because I do that. I’d offer a discount code, but I don’t think you’ll need it. Anyway, see you around! — Carson :)_

Inside the bag were two boxes—a big one that had the mouthwatering aroma of fresh-baked brownies wafting off it, and a small pastry box that rattled when Bucky picked it up. In it was his engagement ring, sparkling clean and looking as good as new—although, it did smell jarringly like chocolate.

Jenna had laughed and laughed when she’d heard the tale, and she’d teared up almost immediately upon seeing the official ring. So overall, Bucky thought he just might look back on _The Brownie Mishap_ , as he’s taken to calling it, fondly.)

So, yes. Bucky had a lot of names. He had a lot of titles. And he also had a lot of plans—not just for their wedding, but their future—although, admittedly, most of these “plans” centered primarily on a heartwarmingly lazy domestic life, with the occasional life-threatening, world-saving mission. 

But the finer details could wait.

Right now...He had just one more title to add to his list.

Bucky Barnes: _Son. Brother. Soldier. Friend. Boyfriend. Fiancé._

_Husband._

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr! :)](https://sleepallday-talkallnight.tumblr.com)


End file.
